


Brittanella

by AmyViolet



Category: Glee
Genre: Blam Week 2016, F/F, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyViolet/pseuds/AmyViolet
Summary: Cinderella AU where Blaine is the charming prince in search of a wife (at his father's insistence) and Brittany and Sam are orphans, cruelly mistreated by their stepmother and stepsisters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the probably numerous anachronisms (but not sorry enough to do a ton of research into whatever time/place this is supposed to be happening).

Once upon a time, in a small kingdom far away, there lived a mighty king and his only son, Prince Blaine. Tales of Prince Blaine's charm and bravery were well known throughout the land. All he lacked was a wife to provide the kingdom with another generation of brave and charming princes and princesses. Courtships of various foreign princesses and noblewomen had been rumored, but nothing had ever come of any. The sympathetic subjects believed perhaps all these women had broken the poor prince's heart.

Shortly after the prince's twenty-fifth birthday, word went out far and wide that the king would hold a ball for the prince, and all the eligible maidens of the kingdom were invited. It was not officially stated, but was nevertheless clearly understood, that the purpose of the ball was to find a bride for the prince from among his own subjects. It was an idea that was met with great enthusiasm by the people. The prince _was_ more likely to find happiness with a woman of his own nation—even if a commoner—than with some heartless foreigner. And, of course, all the invited young ladies dreamed they might be that woman.

None were more excited than the women of the Corcoran household—except one. Brittany, while she loved to dance, had no interest in princes. Even if she had been interested in princes, she knew her stepmother would never let her go. She and her brother Sam were rarely allowed out at all, except on errands: they were kept far too busy cleaning and cooking and tending to the animals and, most importantly, tending to their stepmother's and stepsisters' demands. It hadn't been like that when their father was alive but, well, that had been a long time ago.

The siblings worked hard all the time, but never more so than in the weeks leading up to the ball. Sam was given extra errands like ordering new shoes for Quinn and Rachel from the village cobbler and having new harnesses fitted for the horses that would pull their carriage to the ball. Brittany had to sew gowns for her stepsisters, and on the day of the ball she had to help them dress and style their hair and select which jewelry to wear. 

"It's a shame you don't have any nice things to wear," Rachel said, as she tried on an emerald brooch that had belonged to Brittany's mother. "Maybe if you did you could go to the ball too."

Quinn laughed. "Can you imagine Brittany at the ball? What would she even talk to the prince about? The best way to scrub a floor?"

Sam, who was adding wood to the fireplace, overheard. Brittany never seemed to get angry at the way Quinn and Rachel treated her, but he got angry on her behalf. He had tried many times to convince her to leave with him. They could go to another village and find work. Even if they'd still be servants, it would be better than where they were now. But Brittany refused to leave her best friend Santana, who lived on a farm nearby, and Santana couldn't leave because her parents needed her help on the farm. Sam wouldn't leave Brittany in their stepmother's house without him, so there they all were. While their stepsisters were admiring themselves in the mirror, Sam pulled Brittany out into the hall. "You could still go to the ball if you want," he told her. "You could wear one of Quinn's old gowns, and you could take Lord Tubbington." Lord Tubbington was Brittany's favorite horse. Quinn and Rachel wouldn't be taking him because Brittany was the only one who could control him.

"It might be kind of fun, but it's not a big deal," Brittany said. "If Santana were going then I'd want to. I bet she'd look really pretty all dressed up and with her hair up and everything. But she doesn't want to. I wish..."

The hallway was suddenly filled with a blinding light. Sam and Brittany instinctively shielded their eyes. When the light faded and they dropped their arms from in front of their faces, they saw a tiny, blonde woman standing in front of them. She smiled up at Brittany and asked sweetly, "You wish you had a gown to wear and a carriage to take you to the ball, hon?"

"No, I..."

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

"I'm April, your sister's fairy godmother, of course. I'm here to grant her wish."

"For real?" Sam asked.

The so-called fairy godmother rolled her eyes. "Of course for real. Do you think I show up in people's houses in a spectacular flash of light just to amuse myself?"

Sam wondered. But before he could ask anything else, they were interrupted by Quinn yelling from inside the bedroom, "Brittany! Where did you go, you lazy wench? I need help with my hair!"

Brittany's godmother patted Brittany on the shoulder. "Come meet me in the stable after your sisters leave—"

"Stepsisters," Sam corrected her.

"...and I'll grant that wish for you." She looked Sam up and down and added, "And maybe your brother can grant _me_ a wish." Then she disappeared in a great cloud of smoke.

Brittany hugged Sam and patted his back as he coughed. When his coughing subsided she kissed him on the cheek and said, "I know just what I'm going to wish for!"

Finally Quinn and Rachel were off, Shelby watching wistfully as they rode away. She turned to Brittany and Sam and said, "You two won't even be necessary when the prince marries one of them. The palace has plenty of servants already."

"Which one do you think he'll marry?" Brittany asked.

Shelby tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Quinn's the more beautiful, but Rachel's the more persistent. So it's hard to tell." She shrugged. "It's all the same to me, either way I'll practically be a queen."

"Congratulations," Brittany said.

Shelby scowled at her, then at Sam. "Don't you two have work to do? I can't have you lounging around gossiping about your betters all day."

"I have some cleaning up to do in the stable," Brittany said.

"Me too!" Sam added. He didn't completely trust that weird smoke-and-light lady and didn't want Brittany to be alone with her.

Shelby stared at them as they stood there. "Well? Go do it then!" she snapped. As Brittany and Sam scurried off to the stable, Shelby walked back into the house, muttering to herself, "Lazy, ungrateful wretches..."

They found April standing in the middle of the stable. "You fetch me a pumpkin!" she ordered, pointing at Brittany. "And you fetch me a bottle of wine!" she ordered, pointing at Sam. She wobbled a bit, and Sam rushed over to catch her. She leaned against him and put her hand on his chest. "You can help me drink it." Sam didn't think that was such a good idea. He also didn't think leaving April alone in the stable was a good idea, so he stayed and helped hold her steady while Brittany went to the garden for a pumpkin.

Brittany found the biggest, ripest pumpkin in the garden, cut it off the vine, and carried it back to the stable. "Will this do?" she asked, holding it up for April to inspect.

"Sure, whatever. Set it down on the ground."

Brittany set the pumpkin down.

" _Outside_ the stable, honey! Honestly!"

Brittany picked the pumpkin up, carried it outside, and set it down again. April reached up under her skirt and pulled out a wand that she'd concealed up there somehow. She waved the wand in the general direction of the pumpkin and—poof!—it was instantly transformed into a golden carriage.

"What!" Brittany exclaimed.

April turned to Brittany and pointed the wand at her. Suddenly Brittany's dress, sewn of patches of fabric leftover from her stepsisters' dresses, was transformed into a brilliant blue satin gown. Brittany had never seen anything like it in person, just in a portrait she saw once. All Brittany could think to say, again, was, "What!?"

"So you can go to the ball, of course."

"But I don't even want—"

"No, of course you can't go in those," April said, noticing Brittany's worn, scuffed work boots. She pointed the wand at them and they turned into dainty slippers made of...glass? "Well, off with you now. And you're _welcome_ , by the way. Just don't stay too late. Everything turns back to normal at midnight." Turning to Sam, and reaching her hand under his shirt, she said, "Now, where's that wine? Let's you and me have our own private ball, if you catch my drift."

"Um, no thank you," Sam said. April was disturbing, and Brittany was obviously upset. "I think Brittany wants—"

"Whatever," April said, disentangling herself from Sam and taking a stumbling step away from him. "You're both a couple of ingrates. I could have rocked your world, you know. But it's fine. It's not like you're the only handsome young servant boy left home all alone tonight while his sisters are off vying for the prince's affections." She flounced off in another cloud of smoke, bigger and smokier than the one earlier in the hall.

Brittany walked over to Sam and leaned against him...or tried to anyway. Her giant dress got in the way. "I thought she was going to grant me a wish."

Sam wrapped his arm around his sister's shoulder. "I think she thought your wish was to go to the ball."

"That's stupid. I could have gone anyway if I wanted to, like you said. I wouldn't waste my magical wish on it."

"I know, Britt. But I don't think she's coming back to ask what you really want, so...I think you should go."

"I don't know..."

"Just think how much fun it'll be to dance all night. I know you'd like it more with Santana, but going would still be more fun than staying here. And you look really pretty in that dress; it would be a shame not to put it to use."

"Yeah, but these shoes are _glass_. How am I supposed to dance in _glass_ shoes?" 

"I don't know. Put your boots back on. They barely show under the dress anyway."

Brittany let Sam convince her to go. There was no time to do anything elaborate with her hair like she'd done for Quinn and Rachel, but Sam picked some flowers for her to put in it. While she did that and changed into her own boots, Sam harnessed Lord Tubbington to the carriage, nearly getting kicked once and bitten twice. "You look amazing," he told her as he helped her into the carriage. "I bet you anything Prince Blaine will ask you to marry him."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "You know that's not why I'm going, right?"

"Yeah, I know. But come on, he's so brave! Remember the story about how he single-handedly slayed that dragon when he was only fourteen? And, gosh, he's so handsome!" They'd seen Prince Blaine once, two years ago, when he'd visited their village, and even then they hadn't been close enough to really see him that well. Still, Sam had remarked many times since then on how handsome he was. Luckily he only said it to Brittany; anyone else might think it was strange. Sam picked up the glass shoes. "What should I do with these?"

"Um...I guess I'd better take them with me, just in case April shows up and is mad that I'm not wearing them. This dress has really big pockets, so I'll just..." Sam handed her the shoes, and they fit in the pockets easily.

"Just don't fall on your hip or something and cut yourself," Sam warned her.

"With all this fabric between me and them? I'm not worried."

~o0o~

Prince Blaine stood at the top of the grand staircase, mentally preparing to make his official entrance at the ball. He should be happy. Every beautiful single maiden in the kingdom was there...and every not-beautiful one too. Blaine didn't actually care one way or the other—feminine beauty was completely wasted on him. Masculine beauty on the other hand...

But his father was probably right. He had to marry. He'd been avoiding this responsibility for too long now.

He surveyed the crowd below. Everyone was gazing up at him respectfully, some with eagerness, some with awe. All were dressed in their very finest clothing, which varied greatly in quality, as nobles and commoners alike had been invited. He told himself as he descended the stairs that surely there was one woman here who could make a suitable companion for him and a good mother for his children...and who could be happy with what he had to offer, he hoped. He didn't want to deceive some poor young woman into thinking he could love her the way a husband should love his wife; when he inevitably wouldn't be able to, he didn't want her to think it was her fault.

His father was wrong about one thing. As Blaine soon discovered, dancing with strangers at a ball was a terrible way to try to find a wife. How well could you get to know someone during the length of a minuet? Just enough for a brief impression, really. Just enough to make him feel bad for the young ladies who thought they could impress him with glimpses of their cleavage...though they, at least, were more reasonable than the ones who thought they could impress him with their expensive clothing...as if such finery would be a novelty to him. One girl asked if she could sing for him. That was different enough, at least, that he probably would have let her if she hadn't prefaced the request with a long speech about her angelic singing voice.

Eventually one young lady caught his eye. She was dancing all by herself, and, what's more, she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. As soon as the current dance ended, he approached her. "Excuse me, miss. May I have the next dance?"

The flushed girl was apparently startled by him, but she smiled broadly. "Thank you, yes! There aren't enough boys at this dance, and the girls don't want to dance with _me_ , they all want to dance with the...Oh wait, aren't you the prince?"

"I am."

"Oh, I was supposed to curtsy, wasn't I?"

"Never mind that, the music is starting."

Brittany, as he learned her name was, was a natural dancer, if not an especially sophisticated one. She didn't know the latest, most fashionable dance steps, but she did know how to move to music. When their first dance was nearing its end, Blaine asked if she would be his partner for the next one as well. She answered, "I'd love to, but..."

"But...?" Blaine asked. He really hadn't expected her to hesitate.

"Well, I kind of thought the whole point of this ball was for you to find a bride."

"Yes," Blaine said, stifling a sigh.

"Well, then...I really like dancing with you and everything, but it wouldn't be fair for me to take up more of your time, because I don't want to get married."

"No?" The music ended, but Blaine didn't let go. He hoped if they stayed in position they'd end up dancing together again. "Not to me, or not to anyone?"

Brittany didn't stifle her sigh. "Not to anyone, I guess."

The music started again, and they resumed dancing together. "May I be honest with you, Brittany?"

Brittany looked at him with surprise. "Aren't princes always honest?"

Sidestepping that question, Blaine said, "I don't want to get married either."

Brittany stopped dancing, but just for a second. "Why are you looking for a bride then?"

"Because I have to. I'll be king some day, and kings have to be married."

"I thought kings got to do whatever they wanted. Isn't that the best part about being king?"

"Yeah, well..." Blaine didn't want to start complaining about how hard it was to be a king. Despite her exquisite gown, Brittany's lack of sophistication—not to mention her boots, which looked like those of a peasant or a servant—clearly identified her as a commoner. Instead he went with the much more facile, "I'm not the king yet."

"Oh! So your dad is making you?"

"Yes." 

"I'm sorry. My stepmother makes me do a lot of things I don't want to, but not that."

"You have a stepmother? I'm sorry. I mean, I'm sorry about whatever happened to your real mother. But I'm sure your stepmother is perfectly lovely too."

"She isn't. Unless you just mean pretty. I guess she's pretty. But I thought you meant lovely like nice. And she isn't."

"Yes, that's what I meant. I'm sorry she isn't."

"It's okay, it doesn't bother me that much. It's much worse for my brother. I have a really good friend; he only has me."

Blaine stopped asking Brittany about her home life. Talking about it just seemed to make her sad, and Blaine felt a very strong urge to make sure she was happy. He stopped talking much at all, in fact, because what clearly made her happiest was dancing. And, actually, that made Blaine happiest too. They did continue to talk a little of course—for example, Brittany told him some stories about a "Lord Tubbington," who Blaine at first thought was an unscrupulous suitor trying to pass himself off as a nobleman (there was no Tubbington in their kingdom's peerage, nor in any neighboring kingdom's!), until she mentioned riding him and sneaking him apples and Blaine realized she was talking about a horse—but mostly they just danced.

As it got later and as Blaine became more confident that she wouldn't take offense, he decided to ask something he'd been curious about all evening. "Brittany," he started, "the gown you're wearing is so beautiful..."

She looked down at it as if it were completely foreign to her. "I didn't make this. It's not very comfortable."

"Ah. But your boots are?"

"Yeah. I mean, I wear them every day so they're broken in. Unlike the stupid glass shoes my godmother wanted me to wear."

" _Glass_ shoes?"

"Yeah, look!" Brittany reached into her pocket and pulled out, sure enough, a shoe made entirely out of glass. She handed it to him and he examined it from every angle. It was very pretty, but Blaine couldn't blame her for not wanting to wear them to dance in (or at all). He was about to ask her about the godmother who gave them to her when Brittany froze and asked, "Was that a bell?"

Blaine hadn't heard anything, but he listened for a moment until there was another one. "Yes, that's just the clock tower."

"What time is it?"

"Almost midnight, I should think."

"Oh no! I have to go!"

"But why? Aren't you having a good time?"

"I'm having probably the best time I've ever had without Santana. But I'm afraid Lord Tubbington will be frightened when the carriage turns into a pumpkin."

"What? Brittany..." She was halfway across the ballroom before he could think of anything else to say, and even that was only, "Do you want your shoe back?" But she either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him.

~o0o~

Brittany got home about an hour after midnight—the trip home was quicker than the trip there, since Lord Tubbington didn't have to pull a carriage—to find Sam waiting sitting outside in front of the stable. She hopped down and ruffled his hair. "What are you doing up?" she asked, leading Lord Tubbington to his stall. 

"I just had to hear how it was!"

"It was fun. The music was really pretty. There were a whole bunch of people who just did nothing but play music all night for everyone else to dance to. That must be fun. But also sad because they never got to dance."

"Did you see him?" Sam asked. "The prince?"

"Yeah! I danced with him—a bunch of times!"

"What!?" If it had been anyone else saying that, Sam wouldn't have believed her, but Brittany didn't lie. "How many times?"

"I don't know, I didn't count. He asked me to dance once and then he asked me again right after, and then he just sort of stopped asking but we kept dancing the whole time until I had to because it was midnight."

Sam couldn't believe how nonchalant she was acting about this. Did she really not realize? " _Brittany_!" 

"What?"

"It sounds like he picked you!"

"Yeah, I already told you that he picked me to dance with."

"No, not just to dance with. It sounds like he picked you to be his wife! A princess, Brittany! The queen someday!" Brittany was the luckiest girl in the whole kingdom. "Is he still so handsome?"

"No—"

"No!?"

"I mean, yes, he's still handsome, but no, he doesn't want to marry me. I told him I don't want to get married and he told me he doesn't either."

"But Brittany...the whole point of the ball was for him to find a bride."

"Yeah, but only because his father wants him to. If you ask me, I think the only reason he danced with me so long was because I _didn't_ want him to ask me to marry me, so he was able to relax. Well, that and I'm an amazing dancer."

"How could you not want to marry him, though?"

"You know I would never leave Santana to marry some man."

"But he's not just _some_ man, he's the actual prince!"

"Sammy." Brittany took her brother's hand and looked in his eyes. "I'm really sorry I got to dance with him instead of you. I just like dancing, but I think you really would have liked dancing with _him_."

"That's silly, Brittany. No one ever heard of two boys dancing together before." If that _were_ a thing that could happen, though...


	2. Chapter 2

"So you've found one finally!" Blaine's father burst into his room and greeted him the next morning. "Who is she? Who are her people? Though heaven knows at this point I'm not picky!"

Blaine, still in bed, looked out from under the covers. "What? Who's who?"

"I'm talking about the girl you were dancing with all night, of course!"

"Oh, no, she was just—"

"She's a pretty little thing, all right. But not _too_ little. Strong-looking, for a woman. Not that that's necessary for a queen, but I do like that she has good child-bearing hips."

Blaine inwardly shuddered a little.

"Who's her father? We should get his permission right away."

"Father..."

"No, of course he's not going to _refuse_. But it's a courtesy, Blaine. A good ruler is magnanimous like that."

"I don't know who her father is."

"But how could you not even... Okay, it's fine. It doesn't matter. Where does she live? I can send some men out to find out about her family from the neighbors."

"I don't know where she lives."

"Oh, for...! Well, what is her name, Blaine!? Surely you didn't fail to even find out her name!"

Blaine looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry, Father." It was impulsive and probably stupid, but at that moment he thought that maybe if he didn't say Brittany's name, his father would let the whole matter drop.

The king spun around, picked up a pitcher off the table, and flung it across the room. "Have I raised an imbecile!?" He picked up something else off the table, but before hurling it too, he stopped to examine it. "What in the world is this?"

"Oh, it's her shoe," Blaine said. "She, uh...it fell off when she was leaving." He had no idea why he added that false detail.

Blaine's father looked at the shoe quizzically for another moment before setting it back down. "Are you lying to me about not knowing who she is, Blaine? If you're lying to me in hopes of getting out of your duty to marry, I can assure you I'll be more than happy to pick a bride for you."

"I'm sorry! I was just...so smitten that I didn't think to ask any important questions."

His father regarded him skeptically. "Smitten, really?"

"Why else would I have kept her shoe?" Blaine didn't actually know why he'd kept it, except that he'd been holding it when she left, and it seemed like too unusual a thing to just throw away.

"So you'll do anything you can to find her?" the king asked.

"Yes, of course." 

"Fine. You're going door to door, through the entire kingdom if necessary, until you find her. You will recognize her again when you see her, I trust."

"Well, I mean, I hope so, but...it was night, so..."

"It's a lucky thing you kept this little souvenir then!" his father said, picking up the shoe again. "You just have to find the girl whose foot fits this shoe!"

~o0o~

"Are you sure?" Shelby asked her nephew.

"Completely," Jesse said, taking another of the cakes Brittany had set out for his visit. "My friend Mr. Duval has two sisters. He told me that—"

"Santana!" Shelby shouted at the girl who she suddenly caught a glimpse of near the door. "What are you doing lurking about inside the house?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Corcoran! I was looking for—"

"Out! This instant!"

"She's pretty," Jesse said, watching the girl leave. "A servant, I take it?"

"Farm girl. Not ours. She's constantly over here distracting Brittany, as if Brittany didn't have any work to do!"

"It's so charitable of you to keep that girl and her brother on here, Aunt Shelby," Jesse said.

"Yes, they really don't know how lucky they are." She stared at the spot where the Lopez girl had been standing. "I want you to talk to her," she said.

"Who? Your halfwit stepdaughter?" 

"No. Her friend. Go talk with her, as if you're just exchanging pleasantries. Or act as if you're interested in her, if you want. Let it slip that the king is sending men to the village to collect a special tax."

"What?"

"Yes. You came to warn us not to answer the door to any official-looking visitors."

"Aunt Shelby..."

"Don't look at me that way, Jesse. We're on the far end of town from the direction they'll be coming from. I only want my girls to have a fair chance."

With Jesse out hopefully starting a rumor that would keep most of the townspeople from opening their doors for the prince, Shelby called her daughters to her. "Girls, remember how neither of you managed to impress the prince at the royal ball?"

"I don't even know why he invited people like us!" Quinn complained. "He danced with one girl the whole time—

"Not the whole time!" Rachel cut in. "He danced with me! Though he wouldn't let me sing for him." She crossed her arms over her chest. "How was I supposed to impress him when he wouldn't even listen to me?"

Ignoring her sister, Quinn continued. "And she was obviously a noble because she had the most exquisite gown you've ever seen. I mean _she_ wasn't pretty, but her gown was unbelievable! The king has probably already arranged the marriage for political reasons. Because she was certainly nothing special to look at." Quinn hadn't actually gotten close enough to get a good look at the girl's face. But it stood to reason that if she had been pretty, her beauty would have been noticeable from anywhere.

"I don't want your excuses, girls," Shelby said. "And anyway, Quinn, you're wrong. He does want to marry that girl who managed to impress him, but he doesn't have any idea who she is. He's trying to find her, and all he has is her shoe! It fell off as she was leaving—she was probably too lovestruck to even notice—and so the prince himself is going to every house in the kingdom and trying the shoe on every girl, and whoever it fits is the one he's going to marry!"

Quinn and Rachel exchanged a skeptical look. Quinn was the one who said, "But, Mother, that doesn't make any sense."

"Are you questioning your cousin's first-hand information?"

" _That's_ why Jesse is here?" Rachel asked.

"He's here to help the two of you!"

"But wouldn't the prince know what this girl looks like?" Quinn asked. "He danced with her for hours."

Shelby was flummoxed. Quinn actually had a point. But, no, Jesse wouldn't just make up such a story. "Who knows how royals think?" she said. "Maybe he's just really into feet. Maybe he doesn't actually care what the rest of the girl looks like as long as her feet are the same size!"

"Ew," the girls said, more or less in unison.

"Don't you judge your husband-to-be, one of you; he's the prince! And if he wants to have relations with your feet, you'll let him!"

" _Ewww_!" 

"Oh, grow up, girls."

"Even if what Jesse told you is true," Quinn said, "how does that help us? We can't magically change our foot size, and even if we could, we don't know what size the shoe is."

Shelby threw up her hands. "I can't do everything for you girls! He should be here tomorrow or the day after. Figure something out!"

~o0o~

"Sam! I need you to get me smaller shoes!"

"Brittany! This gown doesn't look regal enough!"

Sam popped his head into Brittany's room. "Brittany, you should get some..." He noticed Brittany's friend sitting on the bed with her. "Oh, hi, Santana. You're here late." 

"Your sisters have been working Brittany so hard she hasn't been able to spend time with me all day until now."

"Stepsisters," Sam said. "Like I was going to say, why don't you try to get some sleep or...whatever...and I'll tell Quinn she just has to wait until tomorrow, like Rachel."

"Thanks, Sammy," Brittany said, scooting a little closer on the bed to Santana.

When he was gone, Santana stroked her hair and said, "Your stepfamily is so weird, Brittany. Why does Quinn need a fancy dress _after_ the royal ball? Why has Rachel been hobbling around all day in shoes that don't fit her and singing nonstop? Well, I guess the singing isn't unusual for her, but..."

"Her voice is so pretty," Brittany said.

"I guess," Santana said. "And your cousin! He was so insistent that I shouldn't let my parents open the door if the prince happens to knock at our house! Can you imagine! The prince coming to visit and us not letting him in!? And supposedly I should tell everyone else too, 'Don't let the prince in!' Like, what the..."

"The prince is so nice, though. I'd let him come in if he came to visit."

Sam stopped in Rachel's room first. "There's nowhere to get children's shoes at..." He hadn't counted the town's clock tower bells the last time they rang, but he was pretty sure it was a lot. "...at this late at night."

"What about the Giardi family? Their children are growing so fast, they must have some shoes that don't fit them anymore. I don't even care that they're boys' shoes!"

"But those boys are so little! And anyway, I'm not going to their house in the middle of the night to ask the Giardis for their children's old shoes."

"Sam, you need to! These hardly hurt at all anymore!" She limped across the room to demonstrate.

"Maybe your feet are just numb," Sam said.

"Trust me, I can definitely still feel them," Rachel said, as she sat down. They hurt _so_ much; she'd lied just a second ago when she said they didn't. But she had to train her feet to fit in tiny shoes; when the prince asked her to marry him, it would be worth it. Quinn was just trying to discourage her with all that stuff about how they couldn't know what size feet the girl at the ball had. They were tiny, obviously, because princes liked girls who were dainty. And Rachel was smaller than Quinn, so she had a clear advantage, which was why Quinn didn't want her to figure it out. But, ha ha, she had figured it out.

And if, on some off chance, her feet didn't fit in the shoes, she would sing for the prince. And then he'd forget all about that freakishly tiny-footed girl from the ball.

"Why are you trying to get your feet into tinier and tinier shoes, anyway?"

"My reasons are none of your concern!"

"Well, I'm sorry, Rachel, but decent people are asleep at this hour. You should go to sleep too."

Stupid Sam! He'd just implied that Rachel wasn't decent. If it hadn't been just because he didn't know any better, Rachel would have been offended.

Quinn, on the other hand, thought the whole idea of trying to impress the prince with her feet was idiotic. He just had to see how pretty she was. Way prettier than that girl who lost her shoe. Prettier, but...similar, she realized. That girl had been blonde, like she was (meaning Rachel didn't stand a chance!). All she had to do was wear a dress like that girl and wear her hair down the same way. She didn't have to fool the prince into thinking she was the one, just remind him of her, while being actually prettier. "Brittany!" she yelled. " _Briiit-anyyy_!" That girl was going to have to sew faster than she'd ever sewn before.

~o0o~

"The next house is the home of Mrs. Corcoran, a widow with two daughters, Your Highness. Their names are Rachel and Quinn," the Marquess of Clarington announced. He'd been entrusted by the king to accompany Blaine on his mission.

Blaine sighed. "Fine. Let's go." They'd been doing this for what felt like forever; he actually did want to find Brittany now. He had come to realize that he hadn't really thought through his "plan," and all he was doing was delaying the inevitable. Even if he never found Brittany, his father would make him marry some woman. If his father wouldn't be so furious to learn that he'd lied, Blaine would just admit that he remembered Brittany's first name so they could stop meeting _every_ unmarried girl in the kingdom. But his father _would_ be furious, so he had to go through with the charade of meeting Miss Rachel Corcoran and Miss Quinn Corcoran. Clarington preceded him to the door. A middle-aged woman dressed much too formally for an afternoon in her own home answered the door, and Clarington announced: "A visit from His Royal Highness Prince Blaine!"

"Oh my goodness, what a surprise!" the clearly not surprised woman said. She curtsied toward Blaine and said, "Please won't you come inside, Your Highness?" Blaine was no sooner inside than the woman turned and screeched, "Girls! _Girls_! We have a royal visitor!"

The two daughters appeared at the top of the stairs, both also dressed formally. Blaine was used to this; word had obviously spread about his mission. He wasn't even surprised to see that one of the girls, the blonde one, was wearing a dress and a hairstyle very, very similar to what Brittany had worn to the ball—she obviously had been at the ball and had seen who Blaine was dancing with most of the night...or at least she'd heard a good description from someone who was there. She wasn't the first young lady who'd met him in a blue gown and with flowers in her hair, not even the first today.

The brunette girl was limping as she started down the stairs, so Blaine went up to help her. He had originally guessed, since she wasn't dressed similarly to Brittany, that she wasn't going to try to compete for Blaine. However, the victorious look she shot her sister when Blaine offered her his arm quickly disabused him of that notion.

Clarington found out from Mrs. Corcoran which girl was Quinn and which was Rachel and made the formal presentations. Blaine gave him the signal that neither was the girl he met at the ball, and Clarington was about to start his explanation that they were just out for a ride in the lovely countryside and wanted to meet some of the prince's subjects and it was so gracious of them to invite them into their home but they had to be going now, but before he could, Rachel interrupted. "Don't you remember me from the ball, Your Highness? We danced together for hours."

"No, _I_ danced with him!" Quinn said. "Quit lying, Rachel! You don't even look at all like h-...me."

"Girls, please!" Mrs. Corcoran said. "I'm sure His Highness danced with many girls that night. He probably just needs to chat with you both for a few moments to refresh his memory. Your Highness, please won't you stay for some refreshments?"

"No, I couldn't possibly put you out any—"

"Let me try on the shoe!" Rachel cried.

Oh, Lord, they'd heard about the shoe. "Miss Corcoran," Blaine said, "I can assure you that even if by chance the shoe happens to fit you—"

"It's my shoe! I lost and I want it back! Let me try it on so I can prove it!"

Blaine sighed. "Clarington? Do you have the shoe?"

"It's in the carriage, Sir. I'll be right back." 

As gracefully as she could, Rachel hobbled over to the nearest chair to wait for the prince's man to return with the princess-to-be's shoe. _Her_ shoe. (Though the thought of wearing shoes so small all the time was disheartening, until she reminded herself that princesses can sit whenever they want, so it wouldn't be that bad.) When the prince was handed the shoe, he crossed the room to where Rachel sat and knelt in front of her—just like a proposal! Rachel extended her leg to him. The prince pried off the shoe she was wearing, and he recoiled. "What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"I'm sorry, miss, but your foot is covered in blisters! Isn't it painful?"

"Nonsense!" she said. "They're nothing. Put the shoe on me!"

"But...you're bleeding. I really think you should lie down and let those heal."

"Oh for heaven's sake, give me that!" Rachel snatched the shoe out of the prince's hand—and it was made of glass, of all things!—and shoved it onto her bloody, blister-covered foot. It fit! See!? It fit so easily, it was actually...

It was too _loose_. It was _way_ too big for her. Her plan had worked _too well_ —if only she hadn't spent the last couple days shrinking her feet! In a rage, she tore the too-big shoe off her foot and flung it against the wall, where it shattered into a hundred pieces.

Everyone stared in stunned silence at the shards for several moments. Finally Clarington cleared his throat. Snapped out of his trance, Blaine stood and said, "We'll be taking our leave now. Good afternoon, ladies."

All three ladies started screaming at once. 

"She's sorry! Please don't go!" 

"You idiot! Rachel, you giant idiot!" 

"It fit! You all saw, before it slipped out of my hand, it fit!" 

Clarington stood outside the door to prevent the inhabitants from running after the prince. When they calmed down from their hysterics enough to be able to hear him, he explained that if they tried to disturb His Highness, they would be arrested immediately. He was bluffing—the prince didn't have any guards with him, just Clarington and the coachman—but it worked, and Mrs. Corcoran reluctantly closed the door.

Blaine went straight to the carriage. He was surprised to see a young woman standing in front of one of the horses, stroking his mane and apparently talking to him. Blaine approached closer—her back was to him, and he didn't want to startle her—and heard her saying, "I'm sorry they're yelling so much. That's just how they are. Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you."

"Miss?" The young lady turned around, and Blaine recognized her at once. "Brittany!"

"Blaine!" She leaned forward and hugged him. Then she said, "Oops! I mean _Prince_ Blaine!" and she curtsied.

"What are you doing here?"

"This horse got scared when everyone started yelling, so I was trying to calm him down."

"Yes, I heard, but...do you live nearby?" 

"I live here." Brittany looked at him curiously. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm..." Blaine was distracted by Clarington approaching. "Clarington, you said there are only three occupants of this house, right? No servants or anything?"

Clarington consulted his notes. "Just three, according to the tax records."

"Oh, yeah, my stepmother doesn't want to pay the servant tax on me and my brother, so she pretends we don't exist."

"You're a servant to your own stepmother!?" Blaine asked.

"And she's not paying the tax?" Clarington added. He wouldn't mind seeing that woman arrested for real.

Brittany shrugged. "You never told me why you're here. Oh wait, it is taxes, isn't it? Oh no, I just got my stepmother in trouble. I mean, I don't think she should lie, but..."

"No, that's not why. Is there somewhere we can..." Blaine turned to Clarington. "I'd like to talk to the young lady without interference from her stepfamily, but I'm afraid if they see the carriage still here they'll get suspicious. Why don't you go ahead to the inn, and I'll catch up with you later?"

"Why not bring the young lady to the inn and talk there?"

Because Blaine didn't want Clarington to overhear either. "Because if they notice she's missing she might be in trouble later."

"Very well, Sir. But you don't think..." He dropped his voice, although Brittany was still right there and would still be able to hear. "You don't think it's actually possible that she's....?"

"I do think it's possible. I'm not sure. If we had the shoe still... But since we don't, I'll have to talk to her."

"Well! Then of course!" Clarington was surprised. He really thought the prince was going to reject every woman no matter if he really did find the one from the ball or not. He got in the coach and ordered the driver take him to the inn, while the prince and the young lady slipped into the stable.

"Are you going to tell me why you're here now?" Brittany asked, making herself comfortable on a bale of hay and inviting the prince to do the same.

"You really haven't heard?"

"I heard something about a special tax," Brittany said. "I don't have any money, though. I'm sorry."

"No, I promise it's nothing to do with taxes." 

Blaine explained the real purpose of his visit. Brittany listed to the whole story without interrupting. When it was over, she asked, "But you still don't really _want_ to get married?"

"No. But I accept that I have to. If not to you, then to someone my father chooses."

"To me!?"

"I know you don't want to either. That's the reason I'm talking to you without Lord Clarington around—if he knew who you were you'd be under enormous pressure from my father, the king, to accept my proposal."

"So...you _are_ proposing?"

"I am, and before you answer, I'd like you to hear me out. If your answer is no, I'll accept that and tell Clarington you're definitely not the girl from the ball. All right?"

"All right."

"All right." Blaine stood. He found he was able to work through his thoughts better when he was moving around. "First let me tell you why I'd like to marry you. I like you. I think we could be great friends. I trust you. I trusted you enough to confide in you, right after we met, that I didn't want to marry. And I trust you enough that now I'm going to tell you why. Do you want to know?"

"Sure."

Blaine stopped pacing for a moment and took a deep breath. "Because I don't like...I don't want to....I like women, okay? I like you. But not the way I like men. I don't have any desire to have a woman as a...as a lover. I do have the desire...I have had men as lovers."

He waited for Brittany to react with disgust or at least shock, but she just nodded. Eventually, when he didn't go on, she asked, "But what does that have to do with wanting to marry me?"

Blaine laughed, with relief more than anything. "Don't you see? Because I was able to just tell you that, which I've never told anyone, and it didn't even bother you! And because when I'm not interested in you that way, you'll understand why it's nothing to do with you personally."

"Oh," Brittany said. "That makes sense."

"And that's just why I think you would be a perfect wife for me. I realize there has to be something in it for you, too. Frankly, being a princess—and eventually the queen—would be a big incentive for most girls. And, I hope I'm not out of line, but it seems to me that your stepmother doesn't treat you very well where you are now."

"No. She doesn't."

"So then, my question is: What might hold you back from accepting? Maybe it's something I can do something about."

Brittany picked up a piece of straw and played with it. "Mostly it's Santana. She's my best friend. Maybe you met her; she's the Lopezes' daughter?"

"The farmers?" He remembered their daughter: very outspoken.

"Yeah. I'd miss her too much if I ever moved away, so..."

"But that's easy! She could come with you! I'll make her your lady-in-waiting, and she can even live in the palace if she'd like."

"Really? That's so nice of you, but I don't think she could just leave her parents like that. They can't manage the farm without her."

"Oh. Well..." Blaine had an idea that he could only trust his father wouldn't object to. "I'll make Mr. Lopez a baron."

"What?"

"Sure." Blaine kind of had to talk himself into it, but it made sense. "If your friend is going to be a lady-in-waiting, she should be the daughter of a nobleman. And the baronry would come with land—do they rent now?"

"Yes."

"So if her parents owned the land, they could afford to hire a farm hand or two."

"Wow, that's...that's unbelievably generous."

"So you accept?"

"I mean, I have to ask Santana first, but...Lord Tubbington, he could come too, right?"

Blaine, remembering this was the name of her horse, answered, "Yes, of course. We have the finest stables at the palace."

"And of course I'd need to bring Sam."

"Sam?"

"Yeah. I couldn't go away without Sam."

"Brittany..." Blaine sat down next to her on the hay. "I want you to be happy. And I want you to have as much freedom as possible. But I can't..." Blaine couldn't run the risk of Brittany having another man's baby and having to pass the child off as the royal heir. That is, there would always be that risk, but if the man in question came to live in the palace when Brittany did, it would be obvious. "I can't have you bring a lover to live with you at the palace. I'm sorry, but it's impossible."

Brittany crossed her arms in front of her chest. "But you already said she could! If Santana can't come, then my answer is no!"

It took several seconds for Blaine to realize what Brittany was saying. Even when he did, he had to ask to make sure. "You're saying _Santana_ is your lover?"

"Don't act so surprised. You have men lovers."

Well, she had him there. "You're right, I shouldn't be surprised. Yes, of course Santana can still come. But who is Sam then?"

"My brother!"

"Oh, right, your brother! Yes, of course he can come. Any member of your family is welcome...I mean, any family member you want."

"Just Sam. Can I go tell him now?"

"Yes, if you..." Brittany jumped up and ran out of the stable before Blaine could finish his sentence.

Meanwhile, Sam was inside trying to sweep up the broken glass. He had no idea what had happened, except that someone had apparently thrown a glass and now Rachel and Quinn were both crying inconsolably. "Do you have to be here right now?" his stepmother snapped at him. "Can't you see that my daughters don't want to be near any men right now, even if it's just you? Go get your sister to clean up the mess!"

So Sam went to look for Brittany. He saw her leaving the stable, but he didn't call after her because he wasn't actually in that big a hurry to send into that mess. He figured she'd come back to the stable soon enough, so he would just wait for her there. He was surprised to see a man in the stable—maybe he was the one who had somehow upset Quinn and Rachel. Sam couldn't hold that against him. He saw the man walking toward Lord Tubbington and he called out, "Be careful, that one doesn't like anybody but Brittany!"

The man turned around and smiled and said, "Let me guess. This is Lord Tubbington?" He was so handsome! He looked just like... And he was dressed more elegantly than anyone Sam had ever met in person, so... But the prince wouldn't be here in his stable! Except he _had_ danced with Brittany all night, so maybe he had come to find her... 

"Oh my god, you're Prince Blaine!" Sam dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "It's such an honor, Your Highness, I can't even..."

"Please, that's not necessary. You can stand."

Sam stood but kept his head bowed, even though he _really_ wanted to look at the prince.

"What's your name?"

"Sam."

"Oh, you're Sam! Brittany just went looking for you. I'm delighted to meet you!" Prince Blaine extended his hand.

Sam shook it, not really believing he was actually touching the prince's hand. "You're here to see Brittany, then? She told me you danced together."

"Yes. I've asked your sister to marry me."

Sam's heart raced. Brittany was _so lucky_...even if that luck was wasted on her. 

"Though perhaps I should have asked you first," Blaine went on. "Unless...is your father still...?" He realized Brittany had never actually said her father was dead. Blaine had just assumed that if he were alive, he wouldn't allow her to be a servant in his home.

"No, he's dead. But what he would think if he were alive isn't any more important than what I think. What did Brittany say?"

Blaine thought it was interesting that Sam didn't automatically assume Brittany had accepted. "She said she had to talk to her friend Santana about it."

Sam nodded. "They're very close. You told her you wouldn't try to stop her from seeing Santana, didn't you? There's no way she'll say yes to you unless you tell her that."

"I told her Santana could come live at the palace, if she'd like."

"Oh! Good! Then you've got a good chance, I think."

"She also insisted that you come live at the palace too. Of course I said yes. I hope you will." He really did. Sam and Brittany clearly cared for each other a great deal, and Sam seemed sweet. And he was gorgeous! Naturally Blaine wouldn't try to coerce his probably naïve brother-in-law into anything, but he could _look_.

Sam gaped at him with big, green eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, completely serious."

Sam got down on his knees again. "Thank you! Thank you, Your Highness!"

"You _really_ don't need to do that," Blaine said. He held a hand out and helped Sam stand up again. "Especially if we're going to be brothers-in-law."

"I hope we are," Sam said, cheeks flushed. "I really hope Brittany says yes."


	3. Chapter 3

That night, after Brittany had found Sam and Prince Blaine together in the stable, after Prince Blaine had left for the inn, and after she and Sam had cooked and served dinner to their stepfamily, Brittany sneaked Lord Tubbington out of the stable and rode him over to Santana's, stopping once along the way to pick a bunch of wildflowers.

She climbed in through Santana's window as she'd done scores of times before. Santana woke up, smiled at her, and held the blanket open in invitation. Brittany shook her head. "I need to talk this time," she whispered. "Can we go outside?"

Santana silently got out of bed and put on shoes and a coat, and she followed Brittany back out the window. When they were safely in the barn, Santana asked, "Is everything all right, Brittany?"

Brittany remembered she'd left the flowers with Lord Tubbington. She asked Santana to wait a minute, ran out to the tree she'd left him tied to, grabbed the flowers, and ran back. She wordlessly presented the bouquet to Santana.

"Brittany! Thank you! What are these for?"

"I want to ask you to go away with me."

"Oh. Wow." They'd talked about going away together before, but this was the first time Brittany had actually asked her to.

It wouldn't be easy. They would have to find work somewhere. Santana's parents would struggle working the farm without her. Brittany would probably insist on bringing her brother along. But on the other hand, Brittany's stepfamily was horrible to her; seeing that tore Santana up. And if they ran away together they could really be _together_. The true nature of their relationship would have to be a secret still, of course, but they could see each other more than a few times a week.

"Yes. I will. We can go tonight if you want."

"Really? I didn't even tell you the details yet."

Santana took Brittany's hands. "The details don't matter. We'll find somewhere to live and something to do. My parents will get by somehow. I love them and I don't _want_ to make their lives harder, but I can't keep living my life for them. I want to live my life with you. I'm just sorry I didn't realize all this earlier."

"Really? Well then..."

"But tell me the details! It sounds like you already have some things figured out."

"Well, yeah, actually..." And Brittany proceeded to tell Santana the whole story, starting with the night of the ball and ending with the prince's proposal and Sam's reaction to it. "But if you don't care about any of that, if you still want to run away just the four of us, then I don't have to marry a man."

Brittany was staring at her expectantly, but it took Santana a few minutes to be able to speak. Brittany had just given her a lot of information to process. Finally she said, "Of course you don't _have_ to marry him. And if you'd only be doing it for the thing about my parents, then don't. They'll be okay. But...if you don't want to turn down the chance to be a princess, _and_ we can still be together... I mean, I assume he'd want to be with you as a husband at some point so you can have babies...

"Yeah. He said that. I don't think it would be that bad. He's not repulsive or anything, and I'd like to have children."

"Well, then...I can't say I love the thought of you being with someone else, but I wouldn't be _that_ jealous."

"I mean..." Brittany linked her fingers with Santana's. "It would make Sam really happy. I think him and Blaine will fall in love in they have a chance."

"Really?" Santana had never considered that Sam might be that way, mostly because she didn't think about him all that much. But she guessed it would explain why Sam never really chased after girls from the village. "But you really need to do what will make you happiest. Not Sam. Not my parents. Not even me, because all I really need is for you to be happy."

"Mostly I just want to be with you. But...not having to work from dawn to dusk as someone's servant would be pretty nice."

Santana smiled and kissed her.

~o0o~

The king was delighted with the engagement. He didn't care that Brittany was a commoner; he didn't care that Blaine had invited Brittany's brother and friend to live at the palace or even that he had offered a baronry to the friend's father, a mere farmer. All he cared about was that there would be an heir after all.

Slightly worried that Blaine would find an excuse to cancel the wedding, the king wanted as short an engagement as possible. But there were preparations to be made, guests from near and far had to be invited and entertained, and of course they had to avoid causing speculation that the ceremony was rushed because the bride was already expecting.

Blaine insisted that Brittany and her brother be moved from their stepmother's house immediately. Having heard of their treatment there—and having the misfortune of meeting Mrs. Corcoran and her daughters just before the engagement was announced publicly—the king agreed. It would have been improper to allow them to move into the palace before the wedding, so he prevailed upon an old family friend, the Dowager Duchess of Sylvester, to keep them as guests until the nuptials.

Blaine received both brother and sister occasionally at the palace, as well as visiting them regularly at the duchess's home. Naturally whenever Sam couldn't be present, someone else such as the duchess supervised so that the bride- and groom-to-be were never alone together.

Sam looked forward to these visits with the prince much more than Brittany did. Brittany liked seeing her fiancé, she enjoyed talking with him, but she didn't ache for his company the way her brother grew to. Sam didn't admit that he felt this way, but Brittany could see it in his face. "You should ask to see Blaine alone," she told him one night as they on their way to their bedrooms. "No one will insist on you having a chaperone; you're two men."

That was right! Sam hadn't even thought about that. "But what would I have to talk to him about that I can't say in front of you or Her Grace?"

"I bet you can think of something," Brittany told him, before kissing him gently on the forehead.

Brittany was right. She had told him things about the prince that had raised a lot of questions in his mind. And the prince was always so kind and so friendly to him; surely he wouldn't mind if Sam took the liberty of being a bit familiar? And so the next day he worked up the courage to write the prince requesting a private audience with him.

Prince Blaine sent word back immediately that he would come early and meet with Sam before dinner. Sam was a nervous wreck, pacing around the duchess's library waiting for him and declining politely every time Kurt, a servant whose rank he couldn't remember, offered him refreshments. (He had not yet gotten at all accustomed to having servants wait on him!) Finally Prince Blaine was shown in.

Sam had gotten over his instinct to kneel every time he saw the prince, but he still stood when he entered the room and bowed slightly. "Thank you so much for seeing me, Your Highness. I know you're busy."

"Nonsense. It's always a pleasure to see you, Sam. And, please, you don't have to bow. We're going to be brothers-in-law soon. You should start calling me Blaine."

"Oh! I'm not sure I can do that! But...I hope that means you don't mind if I'm open with you."

"Of course. And please, sit." 

Sam waited for Prince Blaine to sit first and then took a chair right across from his. He knew it would probably be more proper to start with general pleasantries, but he also knew that if he didn't get right to it he would lose his nerve. Leaning forward, he started, "Please don't get mad at Brittany, but she told me everything you told her. About, you know, why you only love her like a friend. And about how you've had men as l-...l-... you know. Like her and Santana. She told me you know about that too.

Blaine leaned forward too. Sam's statement had taken him completely by surprise, and he didn't know what to make of it. He didn't think Sam was trying to blackmail him, but he wasn't sure why he was mentioning it. "I hope you won't tell anyone what you've heard," he said, carefully not admitting its truth. "It would be very bad for me and your sister both."

"No, of course! I wouldn't have told you about Santana if Brittany didn't tell me that you already knew. But of course you do...I know she wouldn't keep secrets from you. I wouldn't either."

"I appreciate that."

"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything! I know it's not my place! It's just...I knew girls could be together like that, I mean I kind of figured it out because of Brittany and Santana. I didn't know for sure that they were... you know, until Brittany told me after you two got engaged, but I did know they were in love. But I didn't know men could be in love with each other! I've never known any who...and I guess I don't know that many people anyway, but you never hear of it in the village or anything and... I mean, I was just wondering if you would tell me what it's like! Not the physical act, I mean, if there is one, but..."

"Sam...why are you asking me this?"

This was it. Sam could either admit what had been going through his head lately, or... He reminded himself that, if what Brittany said was true (and Brittany never lied!), then Prince Blaine was the perfect person to ask. Aside from being the prince, of course. "Because...I've wondered before, but there was no one I could ask. And I think I might feel that way about a...a certain man now, but I don't know! I don't know how it's supposed to feel."

"Oh, I see!" Blaine tried to think who the man could be. If it was someone who couldn't reciprocate his feelings, then that person might try to ruin Sam if he said anything. If it was someone who _could_ reciprocate...well, there were one or two men who Sam might have met in recent weeks who fit that description, but none who wouldn't just use him and break his heart. "Sam, I hate to pry, but I can help you more if you tell me who it is."

Sam looked him with tears in his eyes. "You can't tell?"

Oh. _Oh_! Blaine had been having a harder and harder time not having improper thoughts about Sam, so if Sam was saying what he seemed to be, then this was an extremely welcome surprise.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said anything! You're a prince and I'm just a former servant and you're about to get married to _my sister_ and..."

"It's okay, Sam." Prince Blaine took his hand, and Sam melted. "The way you're feeling...that's pretty much what it feels like."

"So what do I do about it?" It was too forward, he knew, but Sam couldn't help but place his free hand on top of Blaine's.

"You could...Sam, I don't want to take advantage of you, but you could let me kiss you. If that's what you want."

Sam nodded and whispered, "I'd like that more than anything."

Blaine stood without taking his hand out from between Sam's. He leaned down and caught the boy's gorgeous lips with his own. Sam whimpered and froze. Blaine didn't move away; Sam eventually opened his mouth, and Blaine let his tongue enter. Sam groaned and grabbed his shoulder. Blaine didn't want to, but he forced himself to break away. He would have gladly gone much, much further, but he sensed the need to be extremely careful with Sam's heart. "How do you feel now?"

"Good," Sam said, releasing a deep breath. "But bad. Like I want so much more but I don't even know what and I know I don't deserve it anyway."

"You do deserve it, Sam," Blaine said, stroking his hair. "And you can— _we_ can have more. If that's what you want. There's no rush, we're going to be living just down the hall from each other. I want you to be sure."

Sam's face felt so hot. "I think I'm sure," he said. Nothing had felt so right, ever before.

"Okay. But we're still going to take it slowly. We have to be careful. But I'm sure I want us to have more too."

"Right now?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Not now. Well...one more kiss for now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued?


End file.
